At the end of the day, they will look for the worst version of you.
Good actions will be overlooked, and you will be taken for granted.
They will dig your soul for whatever it is they consider as dirt.
They will make you feel as if there is something wrong with you.
And you—you ask yourself what should be done.
You have not one, but two options.
Either you fight and go against the current,
Or become a slave of their judgments.
If you fight, expect that there will be more coming;
every stench of your soul will be revealed
and they will not stop
until they have dragged you down
And if you become a slave of their judgments,
you might think you are in peace;
But contrary to this, you have a bigger enemy.
You are the master of your own self.
Dead crocs and rabbits
being worn and stepped on
as rugs and carpets
and furry trench coats
Panned, sluiced, and
now shiny gold toilets
All thanks, to your
10-year old laborer
Fancy Ferrari cars
and mind-blowing ***
What else could you wish for
with that stone heart of yours?
An attempt to write something.. Relevant
but I am a just an absurd poet
who writes about your love
from the first time it bloomed
when your light filled my room
to the moment my words bleed
when you stepped my heart with your feet
There is so much misery in the world that we are becoming quite hardened and callous to that constant plucking of our hearts.
(c) Peter Drucker
He travels the sphere
As he sail across
the ocean of fear
He has thirst for experience
Just like hunters eye for a deer
He carries his knapsack
Ready to set off for a journey
With 2 years before his comeback
He leaves the land of brasa
Playin' his Red Hot Chili soundtrack
Enamored by her glance
He met this gal
He offers her to dance
Singing their hearts out
As if he was stuck in a trance
Little did he know she's a faker--
Alluring travellers with one deep gaze
Her ability to paralyse the sufferer
And words as sharp as knife
Makes her one hell of a lucifer
From a heartbreaker
He thought he had a chance
He swore to never wander
And to not set foot
In another land ever
"Not all those who wander are lost."
I'm haunted by ghosts.
Shattering the barriers of solitude.
Banshees cursing me,
Leading them to the depths,
Of the hell I created.
The blackened pit,
I the tormentor.
Where my eyes pierce
Sweetest fantasy, corrupting innocence.
Filling hearts with dread.
Dreams turned into night mares.
Drilling painful truths into
The painted fictions of hope
That we dream of as children.
I am the madness your heart craves.
And the poison that kills you.